


Stiles Stilinski: Hunter Extraordinaire

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, BAMF Stiles, Hunter Sheriff Stilinski, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Season 2, Season 2 Episode 1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:13:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1749113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski is a forcibly retired hunter who has to start fresh at a new town, new school, new everything and learn how to be a normal teenager. Unfortunately the residents of Beacon Hills aren't making his transition from Supernatural to normal very easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles Stilinski: Hunter Extraordinaire

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed sorry, but I went over it hundreds of times, either way any mistakes are mine and mine alone.
> 
> Edit: I must apologize I didn't notice that the story was posted under completed. I feel terrible about that, so again apologies.

Beacon Hills wasn’t home.

 

Home was the place where you knew which gas stations were in short walking distance from your house, knowing which stores had reasonably priced Monsters, as well as knowing who served the best chili-cheese fries in town. Home was a place where you knew all your classmates without having to pay attention to roll call, when you knew all the streets without digging up a map and most importantly home was where the heart is, and Stiles’s heart was nowhere Beacon Hills. It was more in the Los Angeles area if Stiles were being honest; he actually knew who served the best chili-cheese fries there.

 

Stiles slams the door of the car frowning at the house he would be staying in for the rest of his high school career. A small box cradled in his arms containing important items he had collected over the years, such as movie classics like The Thing, season one of Buffy, a few cds from various artists as well as a ripped copy of Deep Throat stashed in a Justin Bieber case that his Dad did not, nor will he ever, know about.

 

That’s the type of thing you take to your grave.

 

He took a moment to admire the house. It was old, large and oddly enough it was theirs which came as a bit of shock to Stiles since, for as long as he could remember, he and his dad have always rented. No point in buying a house they weren’t going to stay in for too long. It was all paid for; his dad never did sell the property when they originally left Beacon Hills years ago. ‘I didn’t have the heart. Your mother loved this place.’ His dad had told him when he asked, the answer prompting Stiles to simply shut up and enjoy the rest of the ride.

 

Now looking at the house Stiles felt a pang of disappointment at not remembering his childhood home.

 

“What you think?” Mr. Stilinski says standing next to Stiles his own luggage rolling beside him.

 

“Pictures don’t do it justice dad.” Stiles says quietly.

 

Mr. Stilinski nods, shuffling his feet awkwardly as they both stood in silence. “Well,” Mr. Stilinski starts lifting his luggage to the sidewalk. “This stuff isn’t going to unpack itself come on if we finish early we can order some pizza.”

 

"With pineapple and anchovies?" Stiles says slowly.

 

Mr. Stilinski rolls his eyes but he doesn’t make an effort to hide his smile. “On your half, don’t forget your old man has to eat too.”

 

“There’s always salad.” Stiles quips sliding the box in his arms so it would be resting on his hips as he grabs his own luggage. Mr. Stilinski grumbles at the comment but says nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time Stiles said no to the offer of pizza and made them all a healthy helping of rabbit food.

 

He dug out his keys and opened the door. Stiles sneezes at the sudden onslaught of dust he just walked into. The house was virtually covered as if no one had stepped foot in the house in years, which given the layers of dust covering the floors and the fact that Stiles felt he was going to cough up his entire lung thanks to the overwhelming amount of it, he could safely assume he was correct. It was a little surprising, that a house like this was so empty, it was large and it was pretty nice, nicer than some of the homes Stiles had seen over the years. He’d expected a few squatters, beer cans littering the rooms, maybe even a few stray needles. The reality was a bit underwhelming.

 

“I’ve got some of the furniture stuck in storage, we can go by and grab the mattresses but we’ll leave the rest of the furniture for tomorrow.” Mr. Stilinski says, already making his way upstairs. “You can set up your room, unpack what you can and meet me downstairs so we can start cleaning.”

 

Stiles groans in response. “Can’t we just hire a maid?”

 

“No Stiles.” Mr. Stilinki says, leaving the room before Stiles can have a proper debate over the health benefits of breathing in ten year old dust as well as toxic fumes from cleaning supplies. Spoiler alert there weren’t any.

 

Stiles huffed but followed his dad up the stairs, he had to admit he was a bit curious as to what his old room looked like. He climbed the stairs two at a time, juggling the box in his arm as he brought his luggage up at the same time. He reached the top with no incident finding his room quickly and dropping his stuff at the corner of his room. The room wasn’t bad, it had a view of the driveway and it was bigger than any room he’d had before. He coughed a few times raising his shirt to his nose. “I have my work cut out for me.” He mutters opening the window to let in some fresh air. He sighs, content for the small breeze that blows his way.

 

At the very least the room wouldn’t be so stuffy. Stiles thinks to himself as he went and opened his luggage and pulled out a spray can and went to work. His dad did tell him to set up his room.

 

In a matter of minutes Stiles had drawn the well-practiced symbols onto the hardwood floor near the door as well as the window. There were footsteps that made Stiles pause from his work. Hi dad clears his throat making his presence known in the doorway a small frown etched onto his face.

 

Stiles swallows. “Hey, just you know doing the usual.” He says with a half shrug.

 

"Just remember to cover it up when you’re done."

 

“I know dad.” Stiles says fighting the urge to snap. It wasn’t like this was his first time setting up a devils trap.

 

Mr. Stilinski nods eyeing the room. “Brooms downstairs, your room can use a good sweeping.”

 

Stiles sat up, wiping the excess paint off his hands. “Noted, do you want to set these up on the rest of the house.” He asks, the question hung in the air long before Stiles gave voice to it.

 

"We’re retired Stiles not ignorant." Stiles lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, relieved that they weren’t going to be completely defenseless. "Awesome, I’ll get right on it." Stiles says standing up to go downstairs, only to be stopped by his dad.

 

"I’ll take care of it." Mr. Stilinski says, plucking the can from Stiles’s hand. “You can sweep up your room and afterwards the rest of the house.” Stiles begins to protest but grows quiet when his dad gives him a look.

 

“You promised remember.” Stiles slumps his shoulders because yes he did promise, and while Stiles isn’t too happy about it he’s still going to follow through or at the very least try. Stiles crosses his arms to curb the urge to simply snatch the can from his dad’s hands.

 

“Yeah.”

 

They spent the rest of the day cleaning. It was the first taste of spring cleaning Stiles had ever gotten and the taste was simply vile. He felt a bit like Cinderella but at least Cinderella had those little woodland creatures to help her out. Not to mention he was doing the rest of the cleaning by himself. His dad had gone to pick up the rest of the things in storage. He offered Stiles to come along, but there was still a lot to do around the house so Stiles opted to stay. It was a flimsy lie and they both knew it but Mr. Stilinski didn’t press which Stiles was grateful for, he needed to have a few hours to himself. Stiles gave the floor one last swipe with his mop before calling it quits and grabbing some fresh air. The house smelled a little too much like disinfectant then Stiles was comfortable with.

 

He just needed a breather he reasoned with himself. This whole moving to a new town and starting from scratch was a little too much for Stiles to digest. He was still trying to come to terms with the promise he had made with his father which still didn’t seem right to him. How was he supposed to live a normal life when he knew what was out there.

 

Fairies, Ghosts, Ghouls, oh my.

 

Things like retirement didn’t really pan out for people like them; monsters had a tendency to hold grudges. Simply put, retirement was a hunter myth, right up there with Twinkies lasting forever and Merlin coming back for a 6th season, and it was just as unbelievable. He’d heard it from hunters countless times, those that retired and came back into the game weeks later, or the ones that retired and were found months later in some random obituary. Retirement was for people who wanted their life to be as it was before, when they didn’t know that Dracula was real and demons covered retail in souls.

 

The thing was though; Stiles grew up in the hunter lifestyle. He didn’t really have an old life to compare it to. Hunting just came naturally to him, he enjoyed the research, the thrill of it and the best part was he was good at it. Stiles had an extensive knowledge on all things mythical and magical and then some. Got a changeling infestation, Stiles is your exterminator. Ghost problem, who you gonna call? STILINKSI, ghost busters can’t hold a candle to what Stiles can do. Need to get a demon out of your daughter, Stiles has exorcised fifty three demons in counting, take that Father Merrin. Not to mention Stiles was a badass with a shotgun.

 

Still he promised and thanks to the ‘incident’ there weren’t any loopholes Stiles could worm himself through. No hunting, no exceptions that meant no late night researching, no digging up graves at the local cemetery, no nothing.

 

Supernatural abstinence.

 

He wasn’t even allowed to check out the local newspaper anymore. In case Stiles got any ideas, so Stiles knew next to nothing about Beacon Hills, other than the stories his dad had told him which were few and far between. Well he was here now, Stiles thought to himself he might as well explore. Maybe a run will set Stiles at ease; there was a trail that was close to his house that his dad told him about, might be worth checking out.

 

Making up his mind, Stiles grabbed his headphones from his room, wrote a note to his dad to let him know he wasn’t terrorizing the village and left.

 

A few blocks from his house Stiles found the forest trail and started jogging at a manageable pace. Jogging wasn’t a pleasurable pastime but it was a necessary evil to stay in shape. After a while jogging became an outlet and the habit stuck.

 

Stiles kept a steady rhythm as he went through the forest. Eventually he noticed that it was steadily getting darker leading Stiles to the realization that he had heavily underestimated how late it was. Stiles checked the time on his phone and grimaced, eight fifteen. It wasn’t too late nor was Stiles afraid of the dark but he didn’t know the trail very well and Stiles didn’t really want to get lost with a steel knife as his only defense. He supposed now would be the best time to turn around and head home, hopefully with pizza already available and ready for Stiles to eat.

 

 Stiles turned back ready to jog when he heard a noise. It was common knowledge from any true horror fan that when you heard a sound in the forest at night and you were all by yourself, you do not under any circumstances go to where the source of the noise came from. The smart thing to do was just leave and don’t look back and Stiles was prepared to do just that until he heard it again louder and more human.

 

“No, not doing it.” Stiles said to himself, shaking his head as he took a step forward in the direction of his house. “Out there be monsters.” Stiles stopped swallowing as he fought the urge to look back. If he looked back Stiles knew his resolve would break. As far as he was concerned he didn’t hear anything and he was going home to enjoy some nice Papa John’s Pizza.

 

He heard it again. It took Stiles twenty seconds before he threw up his hands and muttering fuck it and turning around to find the source of the noise. His steel knife out and ready for usage. What his dad didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him besides it could easily be some hurt jogger who’d broke his leg or something and needed some help. It would be a disservice to his community if he didn’t check it out.

 

Stiles went cautiously minding the undergrowth and doing his best not to trip over a root, wouldn’t that be an entrance.

 

There was a lot more growling going on the more Stiles listened in and a voice? He couldn’t really understand what was being said but someone was talking Stiles was sure about that. He clutched the knife closer to his chest keeping aware of his surroundings. There was scream a round of growls and howls. Stiles jumped as he saw the sudden jolt of movement that was a few feet away from him. Stiles stepped out so that he would have a full view of the trapped man before him.

 

"So how’s it hangin?" Stiles asks observing the rope that kept the man suspended in the air. The man, no werewolf, growled in Stiles direction his eyes flashing blue. Stiles grimaces but he isn’t perturbed by the situation. He gave the werewolf a once over, there was blood on his collar and he reeked but Stiles figured it was due to the fact he needed an actual shower then him getting into any actual trouble. Of course the blood said otherwise but Stiles wasn’t one to jump to conclusions. He checked his surrounding, he didn’t see a pack and going by the state of dress he could safely assume the werewolf was an omega.

 

Omegas were a pretty common occurrence. From Stiles personal experience they were usually recently bitten and were the most dangerous when it came to people on the werewolf spectrum. They were the most common to go on a rampage any day of the week. Those were the werewolves Stiles usually dealt with. Some of them were loners though either they were kicked out of their pack or their previous pack was decimated. Either way it was best to be cautious.

 

"Chill dude I won’t hurt you unless you give me a reason, so what the hell is going on." The trap wasn’t made by your run of the mill hunters looking for Bambi’s mom. This was made for a fully-fledged man, or in this case a werewolf and they knew what they were doing too. Wolfs bane laced ropes, strips of silver, these hunters weren’t looking for just any monster.

 

The man growled but he backed off his features changing when Stiles showed him his knife.

 

"Chased here." The man muttered defeated, his eyes downcast. " I’m not lookin for trouble, just came for the Alpha."

 

"Alpha?" Stiles said in surprise lowering his knife. "There’s an Alpha here?" The werewolf looked hesitant but he nodded. Stiles couldn’t help the bubble of excitement that unfurled at the pit of his stomach. An alpha here in beacon hills, he’d never seen an alpha before. Betas, omegas sure but they were a dime a dozen. Alphas were a bit of a rarity and only a few hunters had seen them and boy did they have stories to tell. Maybe staying here in Beacon Hills wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

 

There was a stampede of noise that interrupted Stiles from his train of thought. He turned his knife ready but he was surrounded. An array of guns pointed in Stiles’s direction. Stiles raised his hands in the air to show he didn’t want any trouble.

 

"Just want to get the poor guy down." He said slowly a small smile on his face.

 

"Now why would you want to do that?"

 

Stiles paused looking for the source of the question when he noticed the group opening up making way for an old man to step forward, he didn’t have any weapons, and for some odd reason that made him all the more scarier though Stiles would never admit to that.

 

"I don’t know cause it’s the right thing to do." Stiles remarked.

 

The old man laughed. “What’s your name?” “

 

Uh Geoffrey, yeah Geoffrey highs. I’m sorta new in town just got here actually.” He said cheerfully he flinched when he heard the guns click. He had a feeling these guys didn’t like strangers very much.

 

"Stiles?" Stiles widened his eyes as he saw Chris Argent emerge from the crowd. Though considering this was Chris Argent professional werewolf hunter he really shouldn’t have. “Guns down, he’s one of us." He yelled at the group. They complied but they didn’t look too happy about it.

 

Stiles couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief. “Am I glad to see you Mr. Argent. Thought I was gonna be gunned down here.” He said lowering his arms and placing his knife in his back pocket. Mr. Argent just looked confused.

 

"What are you doing here Stiles? Where’s your dad?"

 

"He’s not um here, I just went for a walk and stumbled into this mess." Stiles said awkwardly.

 

"You stumbled?" Mr. Argent said in disbelief, because he very well knew that Stiles didn’t just stumble into things. If anything he crashed.

 

"Stumbling happens once in a while." Stiles says indignantly. "Besides that doesn’t excuse what’s happening right now."

 

"We’re hunting, only doing our parts to keep this community safe." The old geezer said calmly his face carrying that ever present smile.

 

Stiles frowned. “Who’s he?” “Gerard, he’s my father.” Chris said, he didn’t seem happy with the introductions.

 

Stiles didn’t seem to notice. “No way not the Gerard Argent woah, Mr. Argent has told so many stories about you. Like did you seriously take on an entire pack of Alphas?!” He asked excitedly, forgetting his past reservations for the man. He remembered all the war stories, this man was a legend, known in all hunter circles as the greatest Werewolf hunter who ever lived, which wasn’t much of a surprise considering that he was an Argent and all. Argents, were like celebrities in the hunter world, the educated masses of the supernatural world like Stiles himself.

 

The old man chuckled, amused by Stiles’s outburst. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration son, don’t you think.”

 

Mr. Argent shrugged but didn’t say much else. “This is Stiles, he’s a hunter’s kid who should be with his dad instead of running around in the woods.” He said pointedly. Stiles gave him a sheepish grin.

 

“Hey I just went for a walk what’s your guys excuse.”

 

"Stiles,” Mr. Argent said exasperated. “Go home, you’re not involved in this."

 

"And what is all this?" Stiles asked confused pointing at the trapped werewolf. “He doesn’t seem that dangerous why not just you know let him go?” Mr. Argent looked conflicted and just as he was about to say something Gerard stepped in, a small smile on his face.

 

"He’s a werewolf, son, all werewolves are dangerous.

 

” Stiles furrowed his brows. “That’s not what Mr. Argent told me.” He said looking to Mr. Argent for confirmation. Chris Argent didn’t meet Stiles’s gaze, finding the ground much more interesting.

 

“Truth be told, my son himself still has a lot to learn.” Gerard said patting Mr. Argent on the back. “Don’t you son.”

 

“We all have room for improvement.” Mr. Argent said evenly.

 

“Right.” Stiles said confused and a little off-put. “So what has this guy done?” He asked looking at the werewolf hanging quietly to the side. It wasn’t moving or making any kinds of sounds in fact it seemed to be doing its best to disappear under the circumstances. Stiles couldn’t help but feel a small sense of dread for the monster but shook it away. Surely there was a reason Gerard was coming after it hunters like the Argents usually did.

 

Gerard looked at the werewolf in question and smirked. “That’s what we’re about to find out.”

 

Stiles couldn’t help the sense of awe that washed over him, once you got past the whole guns thing Gerard didn’t seem that bad. A bit odd but what hunter wasn’t. How many people could stand next to a living legend and watch them work.

 

“But not you.” Mr Argent said sharply, grabbing Stiles by the elbow and crushing his dreams.

 

Stiles started to protest. “What, oh come on I can help, I would be a serious asset. I’ve been reading up on Werewolves since we last met. Like tons encyclopedias, articles, movies, anything and everything I could get my hands on.”

 

“Oh come now, Chris.” Gerard said diplomatically. “It’s important to teach the youth. Why not let him stay? He seems more then up to the task.”

"Yeah I'm totally up to the task." Stiles couldn't help chiming in.

“Because he’s not a hunter anymore.” Mr. Argent said. Stiles winced, in all the excitement he’d forgotten that he was retired and he was supposed to be a normal teenager.

 

“Right, retired.” Stiles said with a sigh, letting Mr. Argent drag him out of the forest but not before giving an awkward wave in Gerard and co.’s direction. “Uh it was nice meeting you Sir, real honor and everything.”

 

Mr. Argent maneuvered Stiles so he would be ahead of him and kept a quick pace. Stiles almost tripped over his own feet a few times. It didn’t take them long to leave the forest, a group of cars were all clustered around the side of the road. Chris took him to biggest truck in the group. Stiles couldn’t help scoffing, Argents and their seemingly endless amount of money.

 

Mr. Argent ignored him and pushed him inside the passenger seat of the car. He turned on the engine once he was in the driver’s seat. “Where to?”

 

“Uh,” Stiles said at a loss for words as he checked his bearings. “Um down the street? And take a left, no wait right.”

 

“Are you asking me or telling me.” Mr. Argent asked impatiently.

 

“Telling you? Telling you.” Stiles corrected quickly once he caught sight of Argents face. Argent sighed but shook his head muttering something under his breath that Stiles couldn’t catch as he settled back and started to drive. It was quiet and just a little awkward, actually it was extremely awkward like Napoleon Dynamite awkward. Not to mention it was quiet Stiles didn't do well with quiet, so he settled for what he knew best, talking. “So what are you doing here in Beacon Hills? Is there a werewolf pack around? Are they pilfering the village and eating the hearts of their victims?”

 

Stiles watched Argent intently awaiting the answers. He didn’t spare Stiles a glance as he said. “Does it matter?”

 

“No but….”Stiles said taken aback. In the few times Stiles has spent with Mr. Argent, he’d never been this snappy before. Granted the man had issues, what hunter didn’t, but he was never this short with him before. Stiles let the matter drop, not wanting to provoke Mr. Argent further.

 

The awkward silence didn’t stay long as Stiles house was actually a short distance away. It only took Stiles a few seconds to recognize his dad’s car, he groaned knowing what was next. Once parked Stiles walked as slowly as possible to the door wanting to draw out his impending doom just a little longer. He knocked on the door once he remembered he didn’t actually have a key to his house yet. Though he doubted he would get it after this. After a few moments the door opened his dad all smiles but the familiar frown befell his face once he saw Argent.

 

"What did you do Stiles?”

 

Stiles gaped. "What, hey what makes you think this is something I did?"

 

Mr. Stilinski didn’t bother giving a response as he fixed a glare on Mr. Argent.

 

"Stiles go upstairs.”

 

“Hey I’m an adult too you know, I can handle-“

 

“Now.” Mr. Stilinski said sharply, leaving no room for debate.

 

Stiles sighed but complied. He wasn’t ready to have an argument with his dad. He needed to prepare and get his story straight. “Fine.” He muttered making his way upstairs. “See ya probably never Mr. Argent.”

 

Stiles didn’t bother turning to see if Mr. Argent responded going upstairs as quickly as he could, opening his door and closing it but not going inside. Stiles wasn’t stupid of course he was going eavesdrop on their conversation what healthy teenager wouldn’t.

 

There was a pause before Mr. Stilinski started talking.

 

“What are you doing here Chris.”

 

“I could be asking the same thing from you. Thought you retired from the game.”

 

“I did.” Stiles heard his dad say quickly.

 

“Well I’m not.” Argent replied. “If you haven’t noticed Beacon Hills isn’t the best retirement spot for men like you Stilinski.”

 

Stiles frowned. “Whats wrong with Beacon Hills.” He whispered to himself, barely having time to think on it as the conversation continued. “I think I’ll be the judge of that, you just make sure that you and your family steer clear of my son. Now get outta my house.”

 

Stiles blinked surprised by the open hostility his dad was showing Mr. Argent. Sure he understood why he’d be angry at himself, stumbling into a werewolf hunt when he wasn’t supposed to but Mr. Argent? Him and his dad were supposedly best of buds, well the last time they had seen each other they were. Stiles couldn’t understand the sudden change.

 

“Understood.”

 

There was a pause then the slamming of the door, marking Mr. Argent’s departure. Stiles swallowed knowing he was next.

 

“Stiles get your ass down here, I know you’re up there.” Stiles took careful steps downstairs, giving his father a half smile that wasn’t returned.

 

“What a night huh dad.”

 

“Don’t even start with me Stiles, you knew exactly what you were doing and you did exactly what I told you not to do.”

 

Stiles was about to protest but stopped knowing it wasn’t going to do him much good he’d already had this conversation with his dad. “I didn’t mean it.” He said quietly avoiding his dads gaze, waiting for the familiar lecture to spill out of his dad’s mouth. How he was irresponsible, how he was reckless, how he was too stubborn for his own good ect, but it didn’t come. Instead Stiles heard his father give a tired sigh.

“Stiles just go to your room.” Stiles didn’t argue going up the stairs as fast as he could.

 

“The same goes to you too Stiles, stay away from the Argents.”

 

Stiles frowned but didn’t argue.

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by the Sterek Campaign to post this. I saw so many people contributing and wanted to help get them to 30k stories before the fourth season of Teen Wolf came out so here it is. I understand its not following any of the current tropes this week, the reason for that is that I started this months ago. I wasn't even planning on posting it truth be told. 
> 
> Unrelated Subject: Holla-loo-yuh by The Rugged Man


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